


... And Then There Was One

by Dr_Harbinger



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cannibalism, Dark, Gen, Horror, Madness, Post-Game(s), Starvation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 10:52:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14872382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Harbinger/pseuds/Dr_Harbinger
Summary: After the defeat of Corypheus, fifteen Red Templars run to a safe place to await further instruction. With the Inquisition hunting them they must survive with minimal supplies, no reinforcements and winter rapidly approaching. Fifteen becomes eleven, then seven, then five, then three, then two... then one.





	... And Then There Was One

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This story features a descent into madness driven in part by hunger and lyrium withdrawal which leads to cannibalism. Do not take the tags lightly. If you have a weak stomach or are triggered by the themes listed, walk away now.
> 
> Note: This is by far not by best work. It was written quickly and not beta read. I have others in the works now that will feature similar themes of horror.

They knew, when the war ended, that this was what would become of them. Lost and alone, trapped within their own bodies and minds, they had no one they could rely on but themselves. Even if they shed the Templar armor to slip into the villages their skin was marked with the red of the lyrium and their eyes glowed red with its twisted power. He had hoped he would be cut down before it came to this but apparently not. This was his punishment, it would seem, for the crimes he had committed since they forced the red into him at the redoubt. It would not be pleasant nor over quickly. He just had to hold on, he believed. Perhaps, if he survived this, he could repent his ways and still see the Maker’s peace when his time came.

When they first retreated deep into the forest, there were fifteen of them. Autumn had already come and the days were steadily getting colder. It was easy to find a small cavern the red Templars had claimed as a safe house to stay in, one with relatively easy access to water yet far enough away from the Inquisitions main routes to avoid detection. Their numbers were too few now to risk a skirmish. The commander now, a man of maybe forty, had them gather supplies for fires and scout out any game that may still be in the area. “If we are careful, we may be able to get word out to another unit and rejoin what is left of the army,” he had said. Such hopeful words. And he had foolishly believed them.

So he gathered wood and water during the day while the archers tried to hunt what they could. They moved quickly, without armor, hoping that without the shine of the metal they would be less obvious. At first, the plan was working. The archers brought back a deer or rabbits. The wood was plentiful enough that they could cook with ease. Their lyrium rations held and their water remained clean. No one, as far as they knew, were aware of them yet. He felt confident then. He thought they would? actually make it.

But then their archers slowly started disappearing. A search for them found their bodies with arrows through their heads and hearts. A search of their belongings found that their lyrium had been taken as well as their bows, quivers of arrows, and any other valuables. The hunters that remained tried to teach another to take the place of the fallen one but a lifetime of training could not be imparted quickly. Before anyone else learned enough to be competent, the last of the hunters was assassinated. The days were getting shorter and colder and now, they had no means to hunt for their food.

Then the commander informed them that the store of emergency lyrium that had been tucked into the cavern was running low. He chose four of the remaining elven men to don armor and go in search of another safe house for more. The rest of it he decided he would ration out in hopes that the four would come back with more before they ran out themselves. The four left early one morning, before he had even woken up. He would never see them again nor would he ever know what became of those four.

Winter’s cold came. Even within the safety of the cavern they were shivering. Some went out to try to hunt but more often than not they came back cold and tired. They were often too tired for lyrium. Their sleep became restless as a result. Even he tried once to hunt something down but his hunt drew him too close to a nearby village that he hadn’t heard of. He barely escaped before someone noticed him. Someone who had eaten more recently than in the last week. 

They started eating snow and bark and leaves. A few even tried to chew on the leather of their satchels and bags in hopes of satiating their hunger. They all grew too weak to don their armor much less actually carry their swords and shields effectively. Then the lyrium rations were reduced. None of them slept well. Pains and aches wracked their bodies. Some of the older knights started hallucinating. He watched as one of them attacked his brother, calling him demon, as he bashed the man’s brain in with a nearby rock. The sound of the skull cracking had made him sick. Brain matter stained the stone. It would haunt his nightmares all the more now.

The body was left alone for a day or so before it disappeared in the night. They awoke to the smell of meat cooking and the commander had said that the fallen knight’s body had attracted something that he had been able to slaughter. They ate their fill for the first time in almost two weeks and it had been so savory and delicious he couldn’t remember eating anything so good. It helped to ease the burn and pain from the lyrium though he still saw ghosts dancing about their cavern and far too much blood staining the walls.

They ate well for a few days before one of the other knights collapsed. His leg had snapped beneath his meager weight as he tripped over something only he could see. He spoke of the mages that were coming after him. Demons they were trying to force into his mind. He clawed at his own skin until he bled. It was only for mercy’s sake that he killed the man. It had nothing to do with seeing himself in the way the mad man slipped out of reality. 

Like before the body disappeared in the night and fresh meat was cooking in the morning. This time, after they ate, he followed the trail of blood that shone so prettily, outside the small cavern. Entrails were left to rot in the open and the various guts and viscera were attracting flies but little else. He didn’t see anything that had tried to eat them, no prints in the snow that were not human. Yet there were no bodies around. Just this.

He returned to the cavern to find two of the others fighting like animals. A vial of precious lyrium had fallen, broken on the ground. One snapped the bone of the other’s arm and pierced it through his skin. The other was tearing chunks of flesh out of the first with his teeth where he held him. He escaped the small cavern, hoping to avoid watching the mess further. There was a cry. Screaming. Wet, cracking sounds. Heavy breathing. Then it quieted down again. Still he waited. The commander and the other dragged the mangled bodies out of the cavern. He was told to go watch the meat. To make sure it didn’t burn. His stomach churned as he realized what the meat was but surely it was better than nothing. He just wished he knew which meal had been whose flesh.

So he went back to the room stained with so much blood and stirred the pot before curiosity got the better of him. He left it to check the supply box at the back of the room, thinking he could check and be back at the pot before the commander and the other got back. He felt ill when he looked inside and saw a few thin slabs of meat clearly carved from something about the same size as his fallen comrades… and no lyrium. He felt a twinge of panic. Being hungry had helped him focus through the burning pain and hallucinations and he had thought eating had helped ease it. Now that he realized what he was eating… it was meat and lyrium in one. It was the only reason the symptoms had faded. Which meant…

There was the sound of a quiet scuffle at the entrance of the cavern. He turned away from the box and returned to where the meat was cooking, sampling a small piece if only to settle his stomach a little more. It still tasted good. No one demons enjoyed the taste of it so much. He didn’t take another piece though. The others would be back soon. They could all eat then. 

The commander came back alone. Bloodied and holding a broken arm. He demanded that he help him with preparations. He did as he was asked after binding the arm as best as he could manage. The men that had fallen were gutted just like the others had been. Their flesh fell easily from their bones. It wasn’t much but it was enough to keep the pair of them going for a while longer. The meat felt slippery and smelled of copper and rust. He carried as much as he could inside the cavern. The commander had only one useful arm after all. They ate decently for several weeks more.

The commander’s arm started to rot. The stink of it filled the cave. He became feverish and the dreams were only made worse. The flesh they ate had some lyrium in it but it wasn’t enough to stave off the symptoms forever. He was beginning to feel the pain creep back and the commander… his hallucinations were so vivid he could have sworn he saw them too. When he fever wouldn’t break and the rot was starting to creep up to the man’s shoulder there hadn’t been much choice. He killed the commander himself. Better to kill him now before all of his flesh became too diseased to eat. Like he had been shown before he gutted and dressed what was left of the man and tossed the arm with the rest of the rotten entrails. The meat he got from the commander’s bones lasted him another week.

He was just finishing up the last of the supplies he had when they found him, dressed in their green and brown uniforms, blades and bows in hand as if he might fight them. He laughed at their show of weaponry and raised his hands in surrender. He knew he looked a right mess. His clothes were far too loose as even with the added meat in his diet he had needed to ration lest he consume it all too quickly. He was sure there was a crazed look in his eye now though he had no idea how long his hair was. He had stopped caring a long time ago. “I am no threat to you,” he said proudly, turning to show them the filth and blood and ruin he lived in, “Yet my life, what is left of it, is in your hands. Choose wisely.”

The commander of their group ordered he be taken with them. He complied with the request, deciding to let them see what they had made of him. The pile of viscera and guts still remained not far outside the cavern and the rotting arm still amidst it. If it wasn’t black and full of puss he might have considered asking if he could take it with him to eat on the way of wherever they taking him but he stayed quiet instead. Let them put him in a cage, exposed to the sunlight in he hadn’t seen in far too long. It hardly mattered where they were taking him. It was away from here. The grave of fourteen men and one who had come out of the other side even more of a monster than he had been when they first retreated there. The dead endured the easier fate, he thought, giggling to himself. What more nightmares did the Maker have ready for him, he wondered…


End file.
